


in the worst cell of all

by darthjamtart



Series: no returning in white chariot [3]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthjamtart/pseuds/darthjamtart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They play chess again that evening. Moira loses in twenty-seven moves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the worst cell of all

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/gifts).



It’s been over a week, and Moira thinks she’s slowly going mad, cooped up in a house somewhere with Erik Lehnsherr and his increasingly annoying compatriots. “It won’t be much longer,” Raven assures her, joining Moira for tea one afternoon. Emma is stretched out lazily on the couch, and Moira quietly, viciously hates her and the telepathic abilities that render Moira unable to so much as contemplate the possibility of an escape plan.

When she looks up, Emma is glowering at her.

 _It’s nothing personal,_ Moira thinks, _but GET OUT OF MY HEAD._

Erik strolls in just as Emma is getting up, and Emma glances speculatively at his helmet. “You might want to keep an eye on that,” she tells him. “Our guest has a craving for an ugly hat.” Erik’s mouth tightens minutely, and he nods.

They play chess again that evening. Moira loses in twenty-seven moves. “Emma tells me that Charles left you with the memory of a kiss, in place of what happened,” Erik comments, and Moira gulps from her tumbler to hide the furious blush she can feel spreading across her face.

“I’d trade it back, if I could,” Moira replies, and Erik quirks an eyebrow at her.

It’s not a complete surprise when he leans across the chessboard to kiss her. The edges of the helmet press against her cheeks.

“Tell me what it’s like,” Erik murmurs to her, and his voice is hoarse, his mouth inches away from her own. “Is it a block, a wall? Or just empty space? What does it feel like, where he was?”

She closes the distance, kissing him again, harder. The helmet will leave marks on her skin. She pulls backs and he follows her, teeth nipping down the side of her neck. Her hands shake as she unbuttons her shirt, baring herself before him.

“There was a movie, a couple years ago,” Moira tells him. “Sleeping Beauty.” She pushes him away long enough for him to shake his head, no, of course Erik wouldn’t have seen it. She shifts, making room for Erik to join her on the chair, and he lifts her effortlessly, sliding beneath her and pulling her on top of him. His hands are hot on her waist, fingers bruise-tight.

“I keep thinking,” Moira continues, and her hands drift down Erik’s stomach to open the rest of their clothes. “If I could find Charles, if I could kiss him again, then I would wake up.” She grinds her hips down sharply and Erik’s mouth opens against her shoulder, stifling the quiet sound he makes as he slides into her.

They rock together, and Moira arches her back, pressing him deeper inside her and giving her the space to study his face. When she kisses him now, the metal helmet is as warm as his skin.

“This isn’t a dream,” Erik tells her, but his voice comes out ragged, uncertain. She braces her knees against the sides of the chair and drives herself down, pinning him inside her and holding herself there. His trousers are rough against her inner thighs and he twitches, gasping. “Moira.”

“How can you be sure?” she asks. Her hands pluck the helmet from his head and he comes without a sound, a spreading heat that leaves her pulsing around him, still missing _something_.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=k1qot1)

**Author's Note:**

> “It is impossible to go through life without trust: that is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.”  
> -Graham Greene, _The Ministry of Fear_


End file.
